


20 Minutes

by YlvaUllsdotter



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 18+, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Edging, F/M, NSFW, Porn, Smut, Sub!Dean, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2019, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: The goal is twenty minutes. Can Dean last?





	20 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Created for SPN Kink Bingo 2019 ([@spnkinkbingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/)). Inspired by [Velvet Veronica on PornHub](https://www.pornhub.com/model/velvetveronica).

You never got tired of seeing Dean like this, spread out on top of the covers, wrists, and ankles tied to each corner of the bed. His eyes followed you when you moved around the room, waiting for what you had in store, trusting you to take care of him.

“We’re gonna play a little game, Dean,” you told him while you got on the bed, keeping your voice soft. 

You caught his cocky little smirk before you straddled his chest facing away from him. Slicking your hands with the coconut oil, you brushed your fingers lightly along his cock, already half hard, and the soft hiss as he sucked in a breath between his teeth told you that smirk had vanished.

“I’m gonna edge you. If you come before I give you permission, you get punished. If you manage to hold back, you’ll get a reward,” you explained calmly, your fingers teasing his length.

Dean let out breathy little moans at your light touch, his hips rising off the bed to follow your hands each time they left his skin. You made a ring with your thumb and index finger and slipped it over the head of his cock, twisting just below the ridge, while your other hand teased at his balls.

“Ok,” his voice came out in a hoarse rasp, between moans.

You tugged gently on his balls while stroking a single finger along the ridge on the underside of his now hard shaft, Dean’s breath hitching every time you brushed over that extra sensitive spot just below the head.

“I think twenty minutes is a reasonable amount of time,” you stated.

“Oh god…” Dean groaned softly.

“Unless you don’t think you can last that long?” you asked him, your tone holding a challenge.

“I ca-hAN...sonofabitch...I can handle it,” Dean stuttered, already breathing hard.

“Good. Time starts…” you glanced at the clock on the nightstand and paused until it ticked over to the next full minute, “now.”

Even as you finished speaking, you wrapped your fingers loosely around his hard length and stroked slowly, twisting your hand at the same time, and tugging at his balls. Dean’s hips rose from the bed and he gasped at the sudden increase in sensation. Keeping your grip soft, you continued the twisting stroking motion, pushing him back down with your movements. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Dean breathed, and you felt his hot breath on your back.

Switching your grip on his balls, you used two fingers to stroke along his perineum, even as you continued your soft stroke-and-twist motion on his cock. His panting breaths told you he was already getting close to the edge.

“You doing ok, baby?” you asked, a teasing note to your voice.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m good...so good...oh fuck, your hands are magical,” Dean panted, making you smirk.

You changed your stroking to use both hands, putting them together and letting his cock slide between them. Dean made a strangled sound and from the corner of your eye, you could see his hand clench into a tight fist. His hips rose again, seeking more friction, wanting to chase that release. You never changed the speed of your strokes, always keeping a steady rhythm, and a light touch, but Dean’s panting breaths told you he was already at the edge.

“I gotta...oh god...please, Y/N, please can I come?” Dean panted desperately behind you.

“Of course not,” you replied, smiling. 

His frustrated groan was cut off when you changed your stroking again, making the tight ring with your thumb and index finger and sliding it over the head. Your hand moved so fast your fingers were practically vibrating just below the ridge of his cockhead and Dean’s frustrated groan at your answer became a hoarse cry as he teetered on the edge of release.

Until you removed your hand completely, leaving him thrusting into the empty air with a whine.

“It’s only been,” you glanced at the clock, “three minutes, Dean. Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“What? No! Three minutes?” Dean’s protests dissolved into incoherent gargling when your single finger flicked at his sweet spot, reminding his body that it was still walking the edge.

Laughing softly at his reaction, you brushed your fingertips along his length, before dipping into the bowl of warm coconut oil again. You spread the added lubricant over his hard cock with soft touches, letting him settle a little, but never too much, before you started back up.

The third time you brought him to the edge, Dean was writing beneath you, and whimpering pleas to let him come. When you took your hands away again, he sobbed in frustration. You were just about to start for the fifth time when you glanced at the clock again and noticed it had been twenty minutes. Bringing him to the edge again, with light touches, this time you kept going.

Dean was babbling incoherently - curses, pleas, your name - his body trembling from him trying to hold back.

“Dean. Come for me,” you told him in response to his begging.

He cried out when he finally was allowed to fall over the edge into sweet bliss, his come coating your fingers while he twitched beneath you.

“Thank you, Jesus, fuck, thank you, thank you,” he babbled, barely able to breathe while you stroked him through his orgasm. 

You wiped your hands on the towel next to you on the bed, then used it to clean his softening cock gently. He twitched every time you touched him, too sensitive after so long being kept on edge. You made sure to keep at least a hand on him while you untied the ropes before you snuggled up to him and brushed your fingers through his hair.

Dean’s eyes were closed, and he was still trying to catch his breath, but he made a contented sound when your nails scraped his scalp lightly.

“You did it, Dean. Twenty minutes. Such a good boy for me,” you praised him, whispering into his ear. 


End file.
